


Black Roses and Silver Daggers

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-21
Updated: 2008-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1637996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: A fortnight before his wedding, Imriel de la Courcel receives a surprise guest in his chambers. Imriel/Phedre</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Roses and Silver Daggers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for allura

 

 

 **AU:** Assumes that Melisandre succeeded in her plans in _Kushiel's Dart_.

* 

I have found that surviving five assassination attempts - two within the last year alone - leaves one keenly attuned to anything out of the ordinary. The door, completely shut when it should be open a crack, a dark smudge on the handle from a fingerprint... 

From the moment I stepped into my chambers, I knew that I was not alone. Easing my dagger out of its sheath, I stepped aside as Marc-Andre and two other guards stepped into the main suite to complete a sweep. It galled me to allow them to put themselves in danger for my sake, but as my mother had pointed out, it is their duty to the throne, and to do less would be nothing short of treason. 

I stood in the frame of the door, impatiently straining to hear what was happening beyond my sight. The rumble of deep voices came through the air, and shortly after, the surprising sound of laughter.

'Your highness.' Marc-Andre padded out of the dimly lit corridor that led to my bedchamber, followed by the other two men. They were alone, and yet, my back still crawled with the instinct that we were not the only ones in these rooms. 

'Is...' It would not do to let them see I was still frightened. "It is clear then?"

Marc-Andre looked back at the other guards, and they shared a smile between them. 

'Not exactly,' he replied. 'There is a early natal day present from your cousin Mavros waiting in your bed chamber.'

' _Elua's Balls_ , I need at least one night off,' I muttered under my breath. Mavros was irascible in his insistence that I have liaisons with as many adepts as possible before my upcoming marriage in a fortnight. We had visited the Night Court seven days out of the last nine, and although I was a lusty young D'Angeline noble, I was not insatiable. 

Marc-Andre dropped his head to hide the amusement on his face. 'I believe you might enjoy this one quite a bit, my Prince,' he said. 

'We shall see,' I said, allowing a sour note to creep into my voice. I would have words with my cousin on the morrow on the importance of sleep - as well as my own safety. I pushed past the guards and strode down the hall, pulling off my overcoat and boots, and throwing down my belt and dagger along the way. I would have a quick coupling with the adept and show her - or him - on their merry way and then I would get some needed rest.

I stopped short when I entered my bedchamber. Candles had been lit and the woman lying on my bed knew how to use shadows to accentuate her body's curves. Flawless skin of alabaster contrasted with a dark, shining sheath of hair that spilled over her lovely shoulders and collarbone. 

I swallowed, and moved closer. 

'Your highness.' Her voice was deep and melodious and my phallus stirred at the sensuous promise in her voice. I knew that she was of Kushiel's descent.

'My cousin chose well,' I replied and her lips curved in a beautiful shape that I longed to kiss - and to bruise. I sat on the edge of the bed and she moved to sitting, facing me, her long hair covering her small, pert breasts. 

'I have been waiting a long time to meet you, Prince Imriel,' she said gravely.

In response I stretched out a hand and she eagerly responded. I covered her lips with mine in a crushing embrace, and instead of pulling away, she deepened the kiss. In the mirror on the wall I caught a glimpse of the dark, twisting shape of a rose and thorns trellising down her back. Her _marque_. 

I broke the kiss and lay my hand underneath her chin, drawing her closer to me. But she would not meet my eyes, and I had to settle for her long, sooty lashes and soft moans as she responded to my rough ministrations, her body pressed hard against mine. 

'Will you beg for me, and mayhaps give your _signale_ , Phèdre?' I whispered in her ear, as I leaned over and caught her hands, forcing them above her body. 

She finally looked up then, catching my glance, her eyes wide and fearful in surprise. The scarlet mote floating in the deep bistre of her eye the confirmation I had no need of anymore. 

'I may be young, but I am not stupid,' I told her, as I gradually tightened my grip on her hands, and allowed the other hand to circle around her throat. 'The moment I walked in, I knew who you were.'

To her credit, her countenance remained relaxed and calm, the driving pulse in her throat the only indication of her distress. 'Then why did you not denounce me immediately, Imriel?' she asked quietly. 

I noted the flush in her cheeks, the high color bringing out her lively eyes and I longed to put my mark on her. 

'My mother...' I said simply. 'She has told me stories.'

'Ahh, Melisandre,' she answered, her face puzzled. 'Not all stories, I imagine.'

'No,' I said, amused despite myself. 'She is my mother still. But you held - hold a... certain fascination for her. I wanted to know for myself.' I allowed my hand to move up from her throat and I stroked gently along her cheek, shifting it as it ran down to the sharper edge of my nail. She shuddered, and I felt the dark desire swell in my body. 

'I have to say, however, that I did not expect the traitor _anguissette_ to wind up in my bedchamber a fortnight before my wedding. Is the defense of my mother's palace really so weak that one of the realm's greatest threats can find access to my private suites?'

Phèdre did not answer and her eyes flicked past me. 'Two traitors, your highness,' said a voice as cool as the blade that I suddenly felt across my throat. 'And yes, it is, although it took a while to arrange the safest path in.'

'Messire Joscelin Verreuil.' 

'Prince Imriel.' The blade shifted, and I felt the welling of blood drip down my chest.

'Joscelin, no,' I heard Phèdre murmur beneath me. 'We have what we need, do we not? Let us shed no further blood, lest of all an innocent boy's.' 

I flushed at the word 'boy' but stayed silent, knowing that if I moved I would be dead. 

'Very well, love.'

I felt a sharp blow against my temple, and before I knew only darkness, the last image I saw was of her eyes, the scarlet mote flashing in my sights. 

*

My mother was furious at the breach of security, and insisted I move into the suite of rooms besides her own. But the damage was done - the next night, and all nights after I dreamt of black roses and silver daggers, and I knew that I would soon see the two of them again. 

\- fin - 

 


End file.
